


with what time we're given

by ladyzeia



Category: Code Geass
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Code Geass: Lelouch of the Re;surrection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-08
Updated: 2019-05-08
Packaged: 2020-02-28 06:17:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18750721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyzeia/pseuds/ladyzeia
Summary: Lelouch decides to demonstrate his feelings to C.C.  He'll admit he's out of his element—out-maneuvered, out-classed—but in the end, even something like this boils down to tactics, moves, a series of conditions...right?Set post-Re;surrection / minor movie spoilers





	with what time we're given

**Author's Note:**

> Please forgive any inaccuracies, etc 😓 ...it's been years since I've watched R1/R2. I saw the movie the other day and just had to write this.

They blended in with the refugees, dust and sand swirling around their ankles as they walked—Lelouch and his witch, her fingers laced through his own.  C.C.’s golden eyes were still glossy, her cheeks colored with the faintest hint of pink—warm with emotion.  He was secretly proud of himself for drawing it out of her, his inscrutable, expressionless accomplice.  It was a promise he’d taken far too long to fulfil—years of detours and obligations, milking their contract to meet his aims until the last drop of blood had been wrung from both of them.  Now, he had but one objective to devote himself to for the rest of his existence, in willing penance, whether that be unto eternity or something less.

Of course, in this he _knew_ he was in over his head. 

It wouldn’t stop him, but an accurate and honest assessment of what he had and what he lacked was a necessary precondition to any operation.  What he _had_ was her approval, his mind, his reasonable appeal…which was, perhaps, not much compared to others, _but_ —

What he lacked, unfortunately, was everything _else_ and any knowledge more substantial than theoretical.

Would it be enough?  Maybe.  For her sake, he was willing to press on with less than absolute certainty.

By evening, they’d reached the border and crossed over, filing into a camp prepared by humanitarian relief workers.  Despite the haste in which everything had been assembled, the place was well-equipped and orderly with neat rows of white tents, facilities for bathing and meals, and a larger tent marked with a scarlet cross for seeing to the refugees’ medical needs.  Lelouch had covered his hair; he gave his new name as they registered and no one spared a second glance for the treacherous former emperor secretly among them.

Dinner was hearty stew served with crusty bread—probably ration-based but as famished as Lelouch was, the smell alone made his mouth water.  They filled their canteens from the spigot and snuck away from the crowds, climbing a small rocky bluff adjacent to the camp.

Lelouch was out of breath when they got to the top— _damn_ his lack of stamina (he could only hope that C.C. would forgive him for it later).  He had to pause for a moment, doubled-over and drawing air, C.C. plucking dinner from his hands with bemused eyes, for which he offered her a look of gratitude.

They settled side-by-side under the dusky sky, the camp spreading out below them while the sparkling lights of civilization danced on the horizon.  Neither of them felt the need to speak as they filled their bellies in companionable silence, broken only by the clink of spoon against dish and bread torn to sop up the last drops of broth from their bowls.

Lelouch finished first, his empty dish cradled in his lap as he lifted his gaze.  The first stars were starting to appear in the inky, indigo heavens…with Jupiter a glittering pinprick low in the sky.

There were no guarantees, much he still didn’t understand about what they were, about how long they had.  But he understood enough.

Lelouch shifted closer to her, as subtly as he could, though he’d never quite match Suzaku’s grace or dexterity.  Their arms brushed; he could feel her warmth through his shirt and the sleeve of her blouse, through the shawl that covered her shoulders.  She noted the touch with a flick of golden eyes his way, but said nothing as she ate the rest of her meal.

He waited until she was done, bowl resting in her lap atop the folds of her skirt, before he moved again.  With his heart pounding a steady, but weighty rhythm in his chest, he lifted his hand in a slow, deliberate gesture to her cheek, brushing silken strands of chartreuse from the edge of her jaw, from the column of her throat.  Her skin was soft against his fingertips, worlds apart from everything he normally touched—keyboards, computers, and data pads.  He _knew_ how to make those systems sing for him.  But—

Golden eyes watched him, her face her typical expressionless mask. 

Lelouch swallowed, his throat suddenly dry, heat prickling beneath the collar of his shirt and gathering in his cheeks.  Logically, the nerves were to be expected.  He’d never done anything like this before, hadn’t dated, three kisses in his life and only one that he’d initiated…  He knew nothing about relationships, much less how to romance a centuries-old immortal witch.

But Lelouch wasn’t giving up.  He’d never give up again.

Meeting her gaze, he didn’t doubt she could read it all in his eyes—there was no point attempting to hide anything from her.  So he didn’t, tangling his fingers into her hair beneath the handkerchief she wore, letting the truth fall quietly from his lips.

“I’m sorry it’s taken this long.”

C.C.’s lips pursed, her eyes warming with amusement.  “You’re apologizing to this selfish witch?  After all I’ve put you through?”

“‘All you’ve put me through.’”  He shook his head.  “You mean the way you gave me everything I asked for?”  He wasn’t taking the bait, allowing the accusing tease into his voice.  “Or the way you never let me go, dragged me back, and pieced me together again?”

Her eyes hardened into a glare.  “We had—”

“— _have_ ,” he said, leaning in with his heart thudding in his throat.  “We have a contract, C.C.  And I don’t intend to break it.”  Lelouch paused with his breath against her lips, his fingers coiling into her hair, giving her the chance to slap him or turn away…

Instead, her eyes widened, lips parted around a silent intake of breath.  The surprise only lasted a second, then her face softened, emotion shimmering in her golden eyes.  “Le—”

He kissed her before she could use that name.  Lelouch was dead, after all.  Hopefully he’d stay that way, this time. 

The kiss was perhaps too firm, naïvely assertive, though she didn’t freeze up on him like Shirley had.  C.C.’s lips were pliant, melting against his in a wave of heady déjà vu—just like the previous kiss they’d shared, a lifetime ago, in his Knightmare frame.

Lelouch sank against her, into the arms that forever supported him.  Bowls and spoons clattered to the ground as they shifted, noted but disregarded. 

When he finally drew back, air trailed from his lips with a tremor, as unsteady as his heartbeat.  “Not that name.”

C.C. exhaled, her arms tightening around him.  “L.L.,” she whispered—low, an incantation that raked shivers down his spine.

She kissed him and he fell—willingly and readily—under her spell.

-x-

It wasn’t the most romantic surroundings—surely she’d had better than a small tent on the edge of a refugee camp.  But it was private, the lamp casting a gentle glow that illuminated them and the blankets.  Lelouch pushed her down—not for the first time, but it _was_ the first time he wasn’t bluffing and she wasn’t calling him on it, either. 

He tried to regulate his breathing as he leaned over her on his hands and knees, slipping the handkerchief from her hair, loosening the knot of her shawl.  His fingers were shaking as he sought the laces of her blouse, his eyes locked on her reddened lips, his inhale filling him with her familiar scent—with them, intermingled and nostalgic.  He’d gotten used to his sheets smelling of her, his clothes, his Zero uniform, his Knightmare frame cockpit.  Was it any wonder that she haunted his dreams, that he _reacted_ to her proximity, though he’d never allowed himself the luxury of distraction?  —A textbook hormonal reaction, perhaps, except for their contract.

He was hers; she was his.  They were partners in life, death, and everything in between.

She watched him, patient through his inexperienced fumbling, not judging him in the slightest.  If anything, the look in her eyes made it exceptionally hard to concentrate.  He was painfully aware of how tight his trousers were, how embarrassingly little time _that_ had taken, though he refused to be deterred.

Lelouch tugged on the laces, loosening the neck of her blouse to reveal the pale skin beneath…  But he didn’t touch her, yet, swallowing as he lifted his gaze to her face.  “I would…appreciate guidance.”

C.C. smiled—it was more of a smirk—as she reached up and swept the covering from his hair.  Lelouch trembled with pleasure as her fingers tangled possessively into the strands.

“Shall I give you the answer?”  She drew him down, matching their mouths, her lithe tongue of fire slipping between his lips—hot and wet and teasing a groan from his throat.  Her eyes simmered as she let him go.  “I’m no different than any other puzzle, any other game you play.”  _Learn me_ , her gaze invited, giving him permission—

Lelouch accepted her challenge with a kiss, gladly bringing all of his faculties to bear.

His first objective, clearly, was to get her out of her clothes.  The task wasn’t difficult, though she wore a frustrating number of layers.  She helped, sitting up as he drew her blouse over her head, lifting her hips as he shimmied her skirts down her thighs.  In the midst of this, she worked the buttons on his shirt and rid him of it almost before he registered what she was doing.  But the whisper of her fingers on his bare skin caught his attention, filling him with a rush of heat that tightened his muscles and made him gasp.

Lelouch caught her hand at the wrist, fixing her with a glare as he breathed slowly, regaining control.  He could feel himself slipping, instinct and arousal threatening to take over.  C.C. merely smirked, which didn’t help.  But he wasn’t expecting her to go easy on him.

She did, however, allow him to lay her down again, the lamplight playing gold across her nudity, her hair fanned out against the pillow, bangs askew to reveal a wing of her Geass Code.

His second objective was equally straightforward, though not at all simple.  He intended to map her body—any mission plan started with a tactical survey—but his efforts were derailed immediately by the scar beneath her left breast.  It was old—centuries old?—paler skin long since knit and healed on her immortal body, but a ghost of a mark remained.  Lelouch, transfixed, touched it—thumb and fingertips measuring the jagged scar.  He remembered it dreamlike, from her memories that he’d once shared.

C.C. went still beneath him, not breathing, her face slipping back to the mask.

Lelouch wouldn’t let her go, ducking his head, pressing a kiss beside his thumb and feeling the rapid pulse of her heartbeat against his lips.  She was alive, here and now—like him.  In everything they’d done with their powers, for their powers, or had done to them because of those powers…there was no point staring into the abyss of regrets.  They could only move on from here.

Beneath his lips, he felt it as C.C. drew a shuddering breath—one and then another, let out slowly as they understood each other as always, as the tension gradually left her.

He finally moved on.

Topography had never been this…fascinating before.  He could stare at a map for hours, tease out its secrets, plan his strategies.  _This_ was different—heat and breath, sighs and gasps, C.C. moving beneath him, her fingers shaking in his hair.  Lelouch cataloged, memorized, experimented…  More than once, he had to pause, shifting in a vain attempt to ease the ache in his trousers—but still not giving up, not giving in.  _Not yet_.

Kissing inside her knee made her breath catch, his lips and the gentle graze of his teeth on the tips of her breasts made her arch against him and moan.  When he finally dipped his fingers between her thighs, he was wholly unprepared for her to writhe and gasp, pressing against him; equally overwhelmed by the liquid heat he found, the evidence of her arousal slick on his fingertips.

“ _Lelouch_ …”

He allowed the name, this time, his trousers unbearably tight as he kissed across her abdomen, down her right thigh, breathing in the scent of her and nearly drowning in desire.  Shaking and hot, he eased her knees apart and settled in between, tasting her…  His C.C., his immortal witch, was taut as a harp string waiting to be plucked.  When he happened on certain parts and places, she _did_ sing for him with sounds and shudders of pleasure that had him gripping her thigh and groaning, trying not to grind his hips into the bedding.  –Trying and _failing_ , clinging desperately to his fleeting sanity with her throaty murmurs of “there” and “don’t stop” and “oh, _Lelouch_ —” uttered between panting breaths.  Clearly for his benefit, yet he was appreciative, rather than self-conscious.

Lelouch was startled when she abruptly pushed him away, his lips wet with her as he found himself suddenly on his back in the bedding, staring up at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, her hair falling as a curtain to shadow their faces.

“You’re as quick a study as ever,” she said, breathless, smiling—almost accusing. 

“Surely, you expected as— _ah_ —”  His retort ended in a gasp as she straddled him and unfastened his trousers.  The relief was immediate, though he flushed hard at the loud sigh drawn unwillingly from his throat as she finished undressing him…and his face caught fire after, with such blatant evidence of his want and need on display.

But her smile disarmed him.  “Don’t be embarrassed,” she whispered, leaning down to kiss him, Lelouch twitching as her bare skin pressed to his, hot everywhere they touched, his hard breaths trapped by her lips.

He wanted to touch her, but he wasn’t sure now—indecision paralyzing him, his fingers curling into the blankets.

C.C. broke the kiss, her palms sliding down his arms to his wrists.  “We’re past shy,” she said, putting his hands on her, on her breast and on her hip. 

Choking back a groan, Lelouch nodded.

She rewarded him with another rare smile, ducking her head beneath his jaw—kissing, hot flashes of tongue, grazes of teeth—  He gasped, arching back with his eyes closed, trembling beneath her, losing track of her hands until he felt her reach between them—

Lelouch tensed in panic, his eyes flying open.  “No, wait—”

White hot pleasure tore through him at the grip of her hand and he grimaced, eyes squeezed closed as he waited to embarrass himself—

C.C. held still, grip firm, as if doing as he’d asked.  She wasn’t, though—he knew that much—breathing a tight breath through his clenched teeth.  As the sensation of teetering on the very brink gradually subsided, he understood that it was due to no great self-control on his part, but what she’d done, buying him more time.  Was he surprised she could manipulate him with a touch?  Of course not.

“Witch,” he said, his voice a raspy, degraded echo of normal, his heart pounding in his chest.

Her golden eyes glittered, equal to the smile on her lips.  “I wouldn’t be upset if you had,” she said.

He flushed at her words, but she didn’t let him reply, his self-loathing and self-deprecation melting under her kiss, her tongue slicing into his mouth and sweeping them away.  It was then that she moved her hand—a languid, loose caress that brought starbursts to his eyes, that made him shiver and groan against her lips, his body responding involuntarily, hips lifting and pushing with the wanton eagerness she commanded from him.

Her hair swept cool against his face as she broke the kiss, her eyes and smile softening.  She brushed her nose gently against his own—a quiet and stunning gesture of affection.  “L.L.,” she murmured with a sigh, as though she’d been waiting for this, for him, for a very long time.

Lelouch let out a heavier breath.  Momentarily spelled from the torment, he touched her face, allowing her to see the devotion in his eyes.  “C.C.,” he whispered, tilting his chin to match their lips, the kiss as tender as the first.

Her smile shattered deep parts of him—shattered, mended, shattered again—and she drew away, sitting up, her touch unraveling his lucid thoughts.  His body sang for her immediately; he wasn’t surprised that she only needed seconds, reducing him to a trembling mess with the places and ways she caressed him.  Lelouch gripped her hips, breathing hard with his eyes shut as she shifted atop him, as C.C. pressed a kiss first to the Code at his throat and then to his creased forehead.

“Eyes open,” she said and he obeyed, eyes snapping wide as he gasped for breath, gaze falling from her face down to their bodies—to her poised over him, to him glistening in her hand as she aligned them and sank down—

 _“Ah—”_   White flashed behind his eyes; he couldn’t breathe, shaking beneath her.  Was it supposed to feel like _this_?  Never one to stoop to uncouth language, yet Lelouch found every expletive he knew running through his head, his moan muffled by the hand she clapped over his mouth.

He looked up at her helplessly, at the amusement and heady pleasure in her eyes.  His fingers were digging into her skin hard enough to leave marks as she settled astride him, with him fully buried—trapped—inside her.

C.C. removed her hand, pausing with one finger against his lips until he nodded, remembering where they were.  Not that he had much control over the matter and gave her a look that said so.

She smiled—knowing and unrepentant, swiping her thumb across his lower lip and leaning down to kiss him.  He trembled, groaning against her lips, clutching the remnants of his sanity in the brief reprieve…

Then, she moved and Lelouch’s world came apart.

All he knew in those moments were skin and heat and C.C.’s parted lips as she had her way with him, her beautiful face creased with pleasure rather than pain.  _He_ was borderline useless—though she did not seem to care—a jumbled knot of incandescent nerves along for the ride, chest heaving, hands grasping, mindless as she took him with slow, merciless rolls of her hips—  The time she’d bought him was running out—like grains of sand _pouring_ through an hourglass, sweat breaking out on Lelouch’s skin as he fought a futile battle with his body.

If she sensed it though…well, he was sure she did.

“L.L…”  His name was a sigh, chased by a hazy look of lust as she reached down, slipping fingers that tasted like him into his mouth.  He did not understand what she was doing at first, though by instinct his tongue came to greet the invasion.  When she smiled, he wet his lips and suckled, liking it more than he might have expected—her inside of him in counterpoint to him inside her…  Lelouch groaned when she withdrew, only for his eyes to flare wide as he watched her glistening fingers slide down her abdomen to the shadow between her thighs—

Heat coiled hot and tight in his gut as he watched her, this portrait of her unfurled for him alone—her head tipped back, glossy waves of chartreuse hair tumbling over her shoulders, delicate strands sticking to her torso and breasts, her skin flushed with their lovemaking.  Her panting breaths and soft cries surrounded him, her scent clinging to him, their taste on his lips as she altered her rhythm, taking him faster, deeper—

 _C.C.—_   There was nothing he could do; Lelouch succumbed with a shudder, lashes fluttering, his clammy hands gripping her thighs.  _“Ah, ahh—”_ He remembered too late that he was supposed to be quiet, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood, as he arched beneath her.

Her answering cry was nearly silent as she continued to move on him, Lelouch shaking with pleasure as he slumped back to the bedding.  He watched through drunk, slitted eyes as she tensed…gasping with her as she came, as her muscles tightened around him, sending waves of torment through his overworked nerves—

When she stilled, he had to close his eyes—not that it helped much, but he stayed in the darkness for a moment to breathe.  Lelouch grunted as her weight settled on his chest—not heavy but not light—and he pried his eyes open to look at her, finding their noses almost touching, her forearms folded atop his chest. 

He hadn’t lasted long, but there was a particularly satisfied smirk on her face, for which he was relieved.  _Third objective complete._

C.C. smiled—a breathless, amused grin.  “Decided you cleared all the conditions, did you?”

“That—!”  Lelouch’s face ignited.  “I—!” 

She laughed, shaking sweetly on top of him everywhere they touched, through their still joined bodies.

 _Witch_.  He exhaled slowly through his nose, cheeks still flaming, as he waited for her to calm down.  Though, truth be told, it was hard to be _too_ irritated…

At length, C.C. took pity on him, leaning down to kiss his pursed lips, which relaxed to her whims.  Her gaze was soft when she let him go.  “One more, L.L.,” she whispered.  Wrapping her arms around him, she rolled onto her back, taking him with her—

Lelouch found himself cuddled to her chest like a Cheese-kun plush…and felt her happy sigh stirring his hair.

“Now, they’re all clear.”

His heart skipped a beat, or two, or five.  He might have died and come back to life twice in those same three seconds.  Lelouch drew a deep breath of her and smiled, surrendering to the embrace of his immortal witch.  “Ah.”


End file.
